The Fall
by AmethystRoseMalfoy
Summary: Some people fall in love so gradually they don't even realize it has happened. But some people are lucky enough to be able to pinpoint the exact moment it happens. Draco Malfoy is one of the lucky ones.


Author's Note: Harry Potter's world is owned by the so very creative JK Rowling. I simply like to play in her world. It's fun there.

The Fall

He opened his eyes to see her curled in his arms. So sweet, so trusting. He wondered just what he had done to deserve this woman's trust. The softness he saw in her eyes when she looked at him.

Thinking back over the years, he remembered all the names he had called her in his youth. The taunts about her impure blood. The pranks he and his housemates had played on her. He had wished her dead more than once all those years ago. He was very grateful that particular wish never came true.

He remembered her screams as she was tortured on the drawing room floor of his family home. He had felt completely helpless in that moment. She was too young and innocent to have been forced to endure what was done to her. He remembered the blood flowing from the cuts on her forearm. The bright red liquid flowing so freely. Pooling on the hardwood under her thin body.

MUDBLOOD.

He could remember exactly how he felt when he realized what his deranged aunt had carved into her flesh. It made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to vomit all over his mother's beautiful Persian rug. She was seventeen. How could she have done anything horrible enough to deserve what his family was doing to her? Her emaciated frame trembling on the floor. Occasionally, a small seizure would move through her from the multiple curses inflicted on her.

He had watched as the dullness left her eyes. He saw the realization come into them when she locked onto his gaze. There had been pleading there. She wanted his help. He could see it. But he had been raised to be a coward. Self-preservation. The Slytherin way. The Malfoy way. He wanted to help her. But what would his aunt do to him if he did? What might she do to his mother? Mother had been tortured many times to keep me in line over the last year or so.

In the end it didn't matter that he had not helped her. Her friends came to her rescue with his father's old house elf. He was so relieved that she was going to be saved, he practically gave Potter his wand. He hadn't even tried to resist when he was disarmed.

He didn't see her again until the final battle. He had been trying to stay in the upper parts of the castle away from the battle. He didn't want to fight anyone. Not his classmates. And not his fellow Death Eaters. He just wanted to survive and find his parents. He wanted to leave all this behind. Leave Britain all together if that was what it took to remain free and safe. But staying hidden didn't work out. Crabbe and Goyle had stumbled across him. He had pretended to be looking for stragglers, but he didn't think they bought his lie.

That was when he saw her. She was with Potter and Weasley. They were going into the Room of Requirement. She looked okay. Tired and dirty, but she looked as though she had recovered. He felt relieved about that. Why? Why did he feel relieved to see that she was okay? There wasn't time to examine that thought. Crabbe and Goyle were suddenly pushing him forward. He stumbled into the room before them. Crabbe and Goyle still pushing and mumbling. Before he could really get his bearings and come up with a way to slip off from them, the room was on fire.

Screaming, heat, a glowing Dragon bearing down on him. It was all just a blur after all this time. The only thing he remembered clearly was being rescued. He heard her voice. She had yelled at Potter and Weasley to save him and his friends. And they had saved him and Goyle. Crabbe had fallen to his death in the fire. But he was alive because of her. Even though he didn't deserve it.

He didn't deserve a lot of things she had done for him. After the war ended, she and Potter had spoken on behalf of both his mother and himself at their trials. It was thanks to them he had stayed out of Azkaban.

His thoughts moved on through time. Several years had passed before he saw her in person again. Of course, he had kept up with her life since the end of war. The Daily Prophet had an odd fixation with the little witch. For months after the war it seemed , her every move was reported. If she bought new robes at Madam Malkin's, it made the morning edition the next day. When she and Weasley got engaged, the entire front page was covered with photos of them. The Golden couple having dinner in Diagon Alley. Leaving the stadium hand in hand after one of his Quidditch matches. And six months later, when she broke the engagement, the front page was again covered in photos. Only this time it was photos of Weasley and several other witches in various compromising positions. Apparently Weasley thought being a professional Quidditch player meant he could have his cake and eat it too.

He thought about the first time he saw her in person after his trial. It had been outside Flourish and Blotts only a few days after the story broke about Weasley's many infidelities. He had been walking down the street, headed for the bookstore to pick up a book his mother had ordered. Hermione had been in the middle of Diagon Alley trying to fend off a group of what looked to be reporters at first glance. But had turned out to be rabid Quidditch fans. Weasley's fans didn't seem to take kindly to the little witch dumping their hero. She was being pulled this way and that. He had stopped to look around, expecting to see Potter coming to her rescue.

He heard a scream and looked back to see her sprawled over the cobblestones. Instead of helping her up, they were trampling over her. He had rushed over, shoving people out of his way. He bent down and touched her shoulder to get her attention and check her condition. When she looked up, her big brown eyes were full of tears and there was blood dripping from her split lip. He saw the moment she recognized him, and he froze. He expected her to push him away, maybe yell at him to leave her alone. But instead she reached up and put her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him. In his shock, he slid his arms under her body, scooping her up. He climbed to his feet, holding her protectively against his chest, and pushed his way through the crowd. Once free of the mob, he turned, apparating away from the madness surrounding them.

He had taken her to his flat in London, cleaned her up and calmed her down. She didn't speak for quite awhile, she just watched him move about gathering first aid supplies, then as he made them a cup of tea. But she never pushed him away, so he kept murmuring soothingly, like his mother had done when he was a small boy and hurt. She accepted the tea cup from him when he offered it and took a small sip.

"Why did you help me?" It was the first words he had heard her speak in years. Her voice was so soft he barely heard her.

"Why did you let me help you? I didn't think you would." He had responded.

"That doesn't really answer MY question, but I will answer yours anyway. I needed help and you offered."

"That simple? Really?" He asked.

"Yes, it's really that simple. Now, answer my question. Why did you help me? You have hated me since we were eleven years old."

"That isn't strictly accurate. I may have hated you when we were eleven, but I haven't hated you in many years. I found you annoying and for a long time I thought you were pretentious. Then I figured out you were as smart as you thought you were. I didn't always like you. I mean you bested me in every class, every year. It's hard to like someone when you are so jealous it's painful..."

"Why would you be jealous of me? You had everything. The great Slytherin Prince. Gringott's vaults full of money, your entire house worshipping at your feet from the time you stepped through the doors of Hogwarts, more than half the girls in school were in love with you by the end of fourth year, no matter what house they were in. What about me could you possibly have been jealous about?"

"You had friends, Granger. Friends who cared. Friends who would help you even if they didn't get anything for doing it. Friends who stood up for you no matter what. I remember how Weasley stood up for you second year, the first time I ever called you that awful name. You didn't even know how awful it was at the time. But he tried to curse me for it."

"Yes, he did. Didn't work out too well for him though. He vomited slugs for hours that day." She smiled while thinking about that.

"Maybe you should try that curse on him next time you see him." He glanced at her, hoping she knew he was just teasing her. She was trying very hard not to grin. Next thing he knew they were both laughing out loud.

"Thank you for saving me. I don't how I can repay you." She said, glancing up at him through her lashes.

"You don't need to repay me. Your testimony kept me out of Azkaban, I think we are even."

After that day, it seemed as though he saw her everywhere. He and Blaise ran into her in Hogsmeade at The Three Broomsticks. He walked into a tea shop in Muggle London to find her politely conversing with his mother of all people. A few weeks later he was meeting Theo and Blaise for lunch at a cafe in Diagon Alley, and he saw her sitting at a table laughing with Ginny Potter and Pansy Parkinson. He didn't know she even knew Parkinson.

It took several months of running into her all over town and listening to his mother and Pansy praise her sweetness and Theo and Blaise talk about how hot she had turned out, before he really took a good long look at her. She had grown to be a beautiful woman. She was smart and sweet and witty and everything everyone said about her. It took running into her, literally, at a Ministry Ball several weeks later before he considered asking her out.

He had agreed to escort his mother to the Annual Summer Ball at the Ministry. There wasn't anyone special he wanted to take. Who was he kidding? There hadn't been anyone special in his life since he dated Pansy fifth year. And his mother had not attended a Ball since before the war. So it was with little hope of romance that he walked in to the ballroom that night, only to feel a very small body slam into his chest and fall to the floor. He looked down to see Granger at his feet rubbing her forehead. He kneeled down next to her and laid one hand on her back, the other at her elbow, and lifted her up to her feet.

"Granger, why do I have to keep picking you up off of the dirty ground?" He asked, with a grin.

And just like the last time he found her on the ground, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her quaking body. They quickly left the ballroom and found a quiet alcove, so she could gather herself back together. After a few minutes, she looked up at him and the tears were gone. Her face was still a little pink, but that may have been embarrassment from being caught crying.

"Malfoy, I know you have changed, but I didn't know you had turned into a knight in shining armor. This is twice you have come to my rescue." She was grinning. At him. Why was she grinning at him?

"Are you okay? Did you hurt your head?" She looked a little confused at the question. "Why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Smiling like what? I was just teasing you about rescuing me. Would you rather I ignore you and walk away?"

"Oh, no. I just...well, it's weird. You teasing me, smiling at me. That's the kind of thing you do with people you like. Friends."

"We could be friends, if you like. I know you have changed over the years. I would like to think you aren't the prejudiced git you once were. And I forgave you a long time ago for how you treated me in school. Do you not want to be my friend?"

And that was when it hit him. He did want to be her friend. Maybe more than her friend someday. And she forgave him. How had she forgiven him?

"Actually, yes, I think I would like to be your friend." He said, hoping she would not change her mind.

They spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing and he even got her to dance a few times.

He is brought back from his memories when he feels her turn in his arms. She has rolled over with her back against his chest. He wraps his arms more snuggly around her, pulling her as close to his body as he can.

"Draco, are you awake? You should be sleeping. Is something wrong?" She turned over again. This time to face him, trying to read his expression in the dim light.

"Nothing is wrong. I was just thinking." Draco looked so tired to her.

"About what? Do you want to talk?" She looked worried now.

"It's nothing really. I was just thinking about how long we have known each other. And wondering how you ever managed to forgive me for the way I treated you growing up." He spoke quietly.

"Oh, Draco. I forgave you a very long time ago. Sixth year to be specific." She admitted.

"Sixth year? But that was the year I let the Death Eaters in the castle...and I tried to kill Dumbledore. I imperioed Madam Rosemerta and almost killed both Katie Bell and Weasley. How could you forgive all that?" He asked her, stunned that her forgiveness could have been given so long.

"Draco, I forgave you at the beginning of sixth year before all that happened."

"Before...I don't understand." He was so confused.

"Over the summer before that year, Harry saw you in Diagon Alley. On the train to Hogwarts, he kept insisting you were a Death Eater. Insisting you were evil and up to something." He interrupted her.

"I was a Death Eater. And I was definitely up to something."

"Yes, I know you were. And I believed Harry was right. But I also believed you weren't doing it of your own free will. I knew you weren't evil. I thought you were just a confused sixteen year old kid, who had gotten mixed up in something and you didn't really understand the consequences. We had heard rumours through the Order that your father was no longer in Voldermort's good graces. That he wanted to punish him for losing the prophecy. What better way to punish a man, and also control him, than to take his only child and Mark him. Voldermort ends up with two soldiers instead of one. I also knew he and his followers were living in your home. I couldn't imagine how awful that was. I know the things you did sixth year were terrible, but I have never believed you did them because you wanted to do them. That's why it was so easy to choose to testify for you. The only thing I ever had to forgive you for was the way you treated me as a child. The things you were forced to do, don't need to be forgiven by me. You were a victim too. But maybe you need to forgive yourself."

And he fell.

Head over heels.

Forever and always.

For the first time in his life, someone knew him. Really KNEW him. Understood him. Cared about him. And for the first time in his life, he knew what it felt like to be truly loved.


End file.
